


The Rain

by MelonEthylene



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4745663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelonEthylene/pseuds/MelonEthylene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote and posted it on tumblr a while ago but I was reading over it again and figured I'd post it up here too :0</p>
<p>Written back when Nilesy was playing CSD. Of endings, anxiety, and comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rain

It had been raining non-stop for three weeks. Grey and wet were everywhere on the streets. Even the bright colors of the billboard advertisements and neon lights of the open signs in cafes seemed diluted and dull. Though the noise of the rain was ceaseless- whether it be the general rush of water hitting and rushing down pavement or the louder sharp cracks of droplets hitting metal- life seemed quieter. People rushed to and fro with umbrellas held over head and rush held in footsteps. They did not talk, the only noises that they added, the swishing of coats and thump of boots on ground, were lost in the cacophony of the rain.

Nilesy of course, could not hear any of this and could only dimly see the umbrellas in the 10pm darkness as he looked out the window. The pitter patter of the rain on the window and the soft light and warmth of his restaurant still held him, though he could easily imagine what it would be like to be outside. He'd been living in the same conditions for the last few weeks and he absolutely loved it. To him, the world did not seem complete without water pouring from the sky, and he quite preferred the muted colors and noise of pouring rain-it made the world easier to deal with. As he continued wiping down the tables and counters, the last chore before going home for the night, he sighed and shifted his glasses up his noise. One more table left then he would be home for the night. He looked forward to seeing Lyndon and vaguely wondered if the card board box he'd brought home was in shreds yet. Having finished with the tables he took one last look over the dining area and over the counter where he cooked and served the delicious (he hoped) food. Lately, every time he regarded his restaurant before closing he got a vague feeling of nostalgia. It was the home stretch for this place, he could feel it. He was at four stars, more than he'd ever thought he could get but it was taking its toll on him. Though he was making more money than he ever had and no longer had to routinely hand wash the toilets (that was certainly something he was grateful for), he was beginning to feel unhappy. He loved cooking and he loved serving it was just...he had been doing it for so long. Additionally, he was almost at the top. Once he got there, what then? For so long his goal had been from one star to the next and he had worked tirelessly for that purpose. Soon, however, there would be no goal and he wasn't sure where he would go from there. As much as he loved cooking, part of him still felt there was more he could do, other places he could work, other people he could be.

Gradually, the noise of the rain faded back into consciousness and he shook himself out of his thoughts. Turning his back on the restaurant he grabbed his coat and umbrella from by the door and flicked the lights off. He made his way to the elevator, smiling nervously at the few janitors he passed working in the hall way. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten, though it wasn't exactly surprising as he tended to take a while cleaning up, being meticulous so he could be ready the next day. After rushing past the janitors he hesitated at the elevator before deciding to take the stairs. It had become somewhat of a habit to avoid the elevator both because of how stuffy the tight space always was and for the chance of meeting one of the...less favored office people who worked at the Sherrisoda towers. He rushed down the stairs, suddenly eager to get home and curl up on the couch with some tea and a purring cat. He opened the side door the stairs led to and stepped out into the alleyway.

The cold, wet hair hit him and it seemed to him as if he could finally breathe. As much as he loved being warm and comfortable inside, there was something about the bracing air that allowed him to forget, just for a moment, the pressure life held over him. For a moment he closed his eyes and just breathed in, listening to the rushing if water and the drip from a nearby drain pipe. When he finally stepped out from under the covering of the doorway he didn't raise his umbrella to block the downfall. Within seconds his hair was plastered and he began shivering slightly as the damp began making its way through the clothing not covered by his long rain coat. Despite this, he kept his umbrella unopened by his side as he began to make his way home. He took his time, meandering along the dark misting streets, passing under the spots of street lights and jerking away from the road whenever an overexcited car splashed a puddle up at him.

As always happened when he walked at night, or really just walked anytime, he began getting nervous and he clutched at the bag strap slung over his shoulder. He had no idea what he was nervous about, but that didn't matter at all. His pace increased slightly, though not to the speed he normally kept. The rain, and the misty barrier it seemed to provide, helped comfort him and slow him down. His house wasn't that far away, only about five blocks, and as he got closer he couldn't help but ponder the future again. He had no idea how long he would be staying in the place he currently had. Should he quit his job as a chef, it might mean he'd have to leave to live in somewhere cheaper and maybe far away, depending on where and what this new job was. The idea of moving was decidedly distressing so he shook his head to try and clear his thoughts of the idea. That did nothing but dispel water droplets, it did not work as well on thoughts and emotions. He felt his throat running dry and his heart beating faster. He couldn't leave his home. How would that work? What if the new place was a dump? What if he couldn't find anywhere to go and got stuck on the streets? What if the only place he found forbid cats? He wouldn't be able to live somewhere like that again, the last time, when he'd been working at a newspaper stand, had gone horribly. Besides, this place, though far from perfect, was his home. Though part of him may want to leave, he wouldn't know what to do with living anywhere else. It would be a whole, new, unexplored territory and that was terrifying.

As his thoughts moved as fast as the cars passing by, he mechanically unlocked the front door to his house and made his way awkwardly inside, conscious of how much he was dripping everywhere. As he took off his jacket, a black shape serenely weaved its way around the corner of the door frame and made its way towards him. Lyndon, for of course it was he, then backed up for a moment, displeased at the water that was still dripping from various parts of Nilesy's clothes and limbs. Nilesy grabbed a towel kept by the door for just this purpose and cursorily wiped himself down. Lyndon, deeming him dry enough to approach, came and rubbed himself against Nilesy's leg, loud purring emanating from his chest. Nilesy knelt down and scratched him on the head a few times, talking quietly to him in a tone and pitch reserved only for the ears of animals. He then stood up to make his way to the kitchen to make some tea. As the water was boiling he changed into warm, dry clothes and got himself a blanket.

Though the thoughts that had haunted him earlier were still there, they were more muted, pushed to the back as he forced himself to focus on each task at a time. Finally warm and snug with tea in one hand and book in the other, he settled himself on a couch by the window. Lyndon immediately jumped up and curled up in Nilesy's lap, vibrating loudly. Before he opened the book to begin reading, Nilesy looked out the window again. Outside was mostly back. There were some lights on in some of the houses across the street and occasionally a car rolled by, but other than that and the few street lamps barely anything was visible. Even within those areas of light the only distinguishable thing was the rain.

Again, as in the alleyway, he had that feeling of suspension. It was not that he felt happy or at ease, it was a more a crystallization of all the emotions that boiled ceaselessly inside. A gentle pause and clarity that pierced the suffocating and constant anxious thinking. A sense of calm and timid hope filled him. He might not be a cook for much longer, and maybe he would have to leave his home, but that would be okay. He would be okay. He had more things to do, more people to be, he would keep doing what he loved and keep making people happy. Above all, whatever happened, he would keep breathing, he would keep living. Lyndon purred contentedly in his lap, the rain made patterns on the window and, safe for a little while inside both his house and his mind, Nilesy smiled.


End file.
